abruptly.

"Right after breakfast," was the boy's reply, as he looked out of the
big sliding doors and surveyed the cloudless sky. "There doesn't seem
to be a breath of wind and it's ideal weather for a good long flight."

But if the boys were up early they were not the only ones astir.
Gladwin, who was an experimenter and who, although he had only been up
a few times, meant to compete in the big race, was already busy
outside his aerodrome, lovingly adjusting the engine of his
queer-looking monoplane which had already been wheeled out. Malvoise,
his hands in his pockets and a red sash about his waist, was also
studying the sky. As Frank gazed about in the crisp morning air a
dozen other aviators opened up their sheds and the day-life of the
aviation camp began.

After breakfast had been despatched the boys at once went to work on
their engine, a hundred horse-powered, eight-cylindered machine which
was capable of driving their twin-screwed craft through the air at a
rate of sixty miles an hour. One of the cylinders needed a new gasket
and they were engaged on the task of fitting it when a sudden hail
outside the shed made them look up inquiringly. A short, fat youth
with a pair of spectacles bestriding his round good-natured face stood
in the doorway. The boys recognized him instantly.

"Why, hullo, Billy Barnes!" they cried, "come on in."

"Hullo, Frank, hullo, Harry," grinned the newcomer, frantically
shaking hands. "I'm an early caller, but I slept at the village hotel
last night and the beds there are as hard as a miser's heart. So I